Lying, Faking, Smuggling and Other Things I'm Not Good At
by Still Waiting for Aliens
Summary: "Captain" Inestra Valis has only half the skills she needs to be a good smuggler. The other half, the interacting with people half, fate has decided to make her learn on the fly, while she makes up a new persona to cover who she really is. A first-person, present-tense retelling of Ord Mantell, starring my f!Smuggler, Inestra.
1. In Which I Forget to Lock the Door

**A/N: **There's a tiny little reference to one of my favorite sci-fi shows in this chapter. If anyone finds it/figures it out, feel free to message me.

* * *

Viidu, thankfully, doesn't make any comments about my timing, or the clearly new blaster burn on my jacket (_thank you, Separatists that watch the path_), and turns out to be my kinda guy. A well-stocked liquor cabinet and an appreciation of good food and drink are two of my best social qualities. Well, they may be my only social qualities. Plus, he has a collection of fine art. I've smuggled a few works before, so I know a little about it and I like looking at some pieces. Pity that he's involved in my mess of a job. The arrangement he's made for getting me past the blockade around Talloran is not really my style, Pa and Uncle Ze always taught us that surgical precision and barely leaving a trail were better than a pile of bodies, but I'll do what I have to do.

Reki on the other hand, is the kind of man the galaxy could use less of. Exploitation of life, human or alien, was a line Pa, Uncle Ze and their father before them refused to cross, and a healthy respect was deeply ingrained in my upbringing. We never smuggled slaves or paraphernalia. That the one woman with the dark hair reminded me vaguely of Sha'li made it all the harder to just turn and leave after handing over the supplies. _I hope you choke on a food cube, scum_, I curse as he pulls the box from my hand.

At least the trip to Talloran proves useful in other ways, finding stolen medicine for refugees (who had stolen it in the first place), uncovering a damn Imperial spy (who can't be behind bars fast enough), and, somehow, finding myself destroying a Separatist communication tapping array. It's good for a few more credits, even if I don't care much for either side of this civil war.

A woman greets me when I reenter Renia Frieght. Her skin is unblemished, her dark hair is swept back into a clip, and her figure is generously curved. In comparison, I feel like an overgrown child: too tall, too skinny, too freckled. "You must be the freighter captain Viidu's expecting. It's a pleasure to meet you in person. I'm Syreena."

Something about her instantly rubs me the wrong way, something suspicious in the lay of her eyes and brow, something else in the play of her voice. Or maybe I'm being overly reactive to everything in the wake of the theft. "Pleasure to meet you," I manage neutrally.

"Likewise. My father flew tramp freighters, but I never developed a taste for space travel, myself. Too dangerous. I heard about what happened with Skavak. Can't say I'm surprised. I told Viidu not to trust that scoundrel. Viidu's putting on a brave face for me, but I can tell he's terrified. Is it bad? Should I be worried?"

The advice that I learned when I was knee-high to a nerf comes to mind. "Ines, kiddo, you've got to trust your gut." I lifted up my shirt, pointed to my belly button, and asked, "Gut?" Uncle Ze laughed. "No, your instincts, your feelings, your hunches." After that, anytime someone had said "trust your gut" on the ship, someone would point to me and ask me how my stomach felt.

So that's what I tell Syreena. The advice, not my story. I remind myself to take that advice more seriously and to get a better feel for these people I'm working with.

"Good advice," she ventures, "thank you, Captain. Sorry for keeping you from your appointment. Viidu's waiting in his office. I know he's eager to speak with you."

"I should go."

"Farewell, Captain." The words sound laced with something, but I can't figure out what.

When I reach the offices upstairs, I can smell the food through the open door. My stomach rumbles in anticipation; it's well past lunch time and I'm famished.

"Back already, Captain? Help me and Corso finish this Roba steak. Don't let this fine cut of meat go waste," Viidu says in lieu of normal greeting.

"Don't mind if I do," I reply, carving off a slice and sinking into a chair. "Got anything good to wash it down with?"

"Corellian red, fine vintage, very sweet."

"It's a little to early for wine," I say, though what I really mean is that I need to keep a clear head. "Something local?"

"Boss, quit acting like that's your last meal. Rogun the Butcher isn't gonna kill you," Riggs butts in.

"I won't blow this—trust me." A bit ironic, since I don't trust anyone very much at the moment.

"Until I've recovered those stolen blasters, I'll eat and drink like there is no tomorrow. Here, Captain, try this."

The proffered drink is dark red and almost impossibly sweet, but in a good, tangy-tart way. "What is it?" I ask

"The locals call it 'Red Paradise', it's made from dried local flowers and a couple of spices, steeped in cold water overnight."

"Refreshing."

Pa and Uncle Ze used to argue with Aunt Keki (and Mom, when she was still alive) as to whether or not mixing business and food led to indigestion. It was a pointless argument, really, but Viidu clearly would side with the men on this one. The three of us discuss getting onto Mannett Point and the plan for getting the computer files. Riggs offers to come with me, help I'd be glad to have, since swimming is not my strong point, but his boss has other plans for him.

I'm sliding my jacket back on when Viidu comes up to me. "Captain, I hope you'll understand why I'm keeping Corso here. Last thing I need is him turning 'one man army' out there. Kid will just get himself killed for nothing." I raise an eyebrow. "Separatists wiped out his family a couple of years ago. Corso took it personal."

My throat tightens convulsively. _Two seeds in a pod, indeed_. My voice takes on an edge, "I don't blame him for wanting revenge."

"Mixing personal grudges and business is like dropping a thermal detonator into a fuel dump. Everything burns and nothing feels right ever again." From the tone of Viidu's voice, I can't tell if he's giving me advice or talking about Corso. I glance over at him, and his expression is unreadable. I'm about to ask him about it, but Syreena interrupts with news of a holo from Rogun. This time, the panic is clear in Viidu's face.

I'm out the door in microseconds.

* * *

For some reason, every person with a possible request seems to read "civilian" as "do-gooder", which I am not, by nature. I don't go out of my way to help people, but when faced with decisions, all those lessons I was taught growing up kick in. Still, credits are credits, until I hear the stories of some of these folks, and I can't accept rewards. Every family torn apart becomes my family, every broken mother or father is my Uncle or Aunt, and credits cease to matter. I even wind up handing some creds to a kid trying to escape what can only be described as enslavement.

Yep, give me the opportunity, and I'm a regular bleeding heart, especially when a situation involves children. More importantly, the busier I stay, the less time I have to think about my family, my old life, or my ship.

The downside is that every extra task I take on adds to the time it takes for me to complete my to-do list. Searching for missing sons and holodiscs and doctors will probably double the time it takes for me to get back to Viidu in Fort Garnik. I'm not sure if the extra credits and the warm feeling are worth it when my ship, my life, and my home are in jeopardy.

Once I actually get into Reki's house and decipher the schematics, the sun is little more than a pink wash in the sky. My stomach rumbles again and I reach in a jacket pocket for a protein bar. I search Reki's kitchen (well, whatever passes as a kitchen) for a glass, wash it off, and swallow a few sips of water. I'm exhausted, so I figure I'll sneak in a quick nap before infiltrating the base after dark has fallen. As the majority of the house looks unwashed and filthy, the floor will have to do.

I wake up an hour later, my chrono beeping, refreshed enough to keep moving. Dark provides a nice cover for me as I sneak down the path to the base. The back door is relatively unguarded and almost no one is inside. I start the download of the Separatist personnel roster and some other files that look like databases and schedules. Hopefully, one of them has Skavak's info.

"Come on, Foursen, say it just like I taught you."

"The Republic lackeys will drown in lakes of fire and blood, master. Death to all who oppose the people's will, master."

_Hurry up, will ya, data? _The telltale clack of boots is getting closer.

"Hey there. We've had some trouble with the power relays. I need to check on the computer core. You mind?"

The droid that accompanies the booted male manages to both save my skin and put it at risk. "Master, I detect the presence of several non-functioning humans. Specifically, the bodies over there. Setting alert status red."

"By the stars! Republic troops have invaded our base!" Acting is not one of my talents, but "Boots" and his droid buy it.

"Oh, no! Foursen, activate combat protocols! We've got to warn the others!"

"Master, my sensors detect no evidence of hostile forces."

"But that doesn't make sense..."

"When was the last time you calibrated that droids sensors?" I ask.

"Not recently enough to take any chances. We need to put the base on alert and rally the men. Good day, Comrade! Come on, Foursen."

_Comrade?_ I resist the urge to giggle. The word is just so odd. Sneaking back out is as easy as sneaking in, and within a few minutes I find myself splashing my way back to the mainland. The water rinses away the dust and blood on my exposed skin, but it also soaks through my clothes and the wind blowing is chilly. I'm not familiar with the threat posed by local fauna, so I elect to take a taxi speeder back to the base. The wind from the high velocity chills me more, and by the time I reach Rendia Freight, I'm straight up shivering.

The voices from inside make me pause outside the doorway into the warehouse proper.

"You really don't have to work so late, sweets, there's a nice, warm spot back in my bunk."

"Leave me alone, Bracco! If Viidu knew about this, he'd-"

I'd barely come to the chin of the Zabrak, so he absolutely towers over the petite Syreena. "Viidu?" he laughs. " You're trying to tell me you actually care about that blob? He can't even protect himself. It's only a matter time before Rogun the Butcher punches your fat meal ticket for good. You'd better start thinking about the future, girl." He raises his hand and runs it along Syreena's face. "When Viidu's gone, you'll need new friends."

I'm leaning on the door frame, hair tie around my wrist, vigorously shaking my hair out in an attempt to get it to dry a bit when he delivers that last line. "She's got new friends," I lie. " She's got me, and besides, Rogun's got his eye on her. Think of his reaction when he discovers you messed up his favorite."

"Th-That's right, Bracco. You don't want to get on Rogun's bad side. I'm sure your life would be very unpleasant."

"He's already scoping out his future trophies, huh? Just proves Viidu ain't long for this world." He turns and makes to leave. "Let's go, guys."

I shake my head again to rid my neck of the damp touch of my hair. "Men..."

"Thanks for stepping in, Captain. I was so frighted." She hardly looks it though.

"With guys like that, there's no telling what they'd do. At least they were gullible enough to buy it. I wasn't looking forward to a brawl."

"Bluff? It's closer to the truth than I'd like to admit." She sighs. "What Bracco said was true, though. Rogun will kill Viidu if those blasters don't turn up."

"Rogun won't kill anyone, Syreena. Those blasters are as good as being back here." I smile. Again, I'm reassuring myself as much as the person I'm talking to.

"I hope whatever course of action you're pursuing pays off, Captain. More lives than your own depend on it."

I sneeze. The chilly damp of my jacket is getting to me. "Don't worry about it, you'll be alright. Now, I've gotta to see your boss before I catch a cold." I sprint off towards Viidu's office and rub at my arms, hoping the friction warms me a little.

Viidu and Corso are waiting for me in the conference room-slash-office. Corso's pacing and Viidu's enjoying what looks to be a late-night snack while fidgeting with a datapad.

"Captain!" Corso says as a greeting.

"Hey-ya, Riggs." When he smiles, just a tiny corner of the world straightens out and comes back into balance. Once I get the _Shadow _back, maybe I can convince him to come with me. I could use a crew member or two to help out, especially ones with contacts and their own weaponry, and if even a corner of my world is fixed, he'd be worth it.

"Finally! I thought you'd never get back," Viidu exclaims. "Tell me you got those separatist files!"

I slide the datapad across the table. "Yeah, I got 'em. And I had some fun while I was out." I brush a lock of damp hair behind my ear again.

"I hate missing all the fun," Riggs pouts. "Next time, can I join?"

"You did good, Captain. Corso found us a terrific little slicer kit, so we're ready to decrypt that data. We'll know where to find Skavak soon."

"I can help with the slic—Achoo!" I sneeze loudly.

"Jeez, Captain, you're shivering," Corso says, noticing my appearance for the first time. "Let us handle the slicing."

"You sure?" I cross my arms over my chest to try to stop the tiny tremors.

"We're sure," says Viidu. "Corso, why don't you find Captain Valis some dry clothes and a place to spend the night."

"Sure thing, boss."

"And Captain, I have a job to talk to you about in the morning."

"Couldn't we just talk now?" It's not as if I'm not alert or I have that much patience.

"You need to warm up and get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

Riggs rests a warm hand on my shoulder. "C'mon, Captain. Let's find you something dry and a spot to bunk down." I follow him downstairs to a set of lockers. "We all keep some spare clothes in these lockers, just in case. Hey, Syreena, you still around?" He calls, and her head pops up over a nearby shipping crate. "Can you help me find something for the Captain to wear?"

Syreena laughs. "If anything of mine fits her, I'll be surprised." She sidles up to us and palms her locker open. "Let's see...how about this?" She holds out a pair of leggings, a belt and a shirt. I hold them against my frame and laugh almost immediately. Everything is too short. The leggings reach the middle of my shins; the shirt would barely cover my stomach. Syreena shrugs. "I told you it'll all be too small. The Captain's tall." She uses her hand to indicate my height.

Riggs fumbles for a minute with another locker. "One of the old workers left some of her stuff here. It might do." The pants inside are wide for me, but fit well enough in the length. There's no shirts though.

"It's ok. I'll just leave my undershirt on."

"You'll catch a cold in that wet stuff," Riggs says, before opening another locker and tossing a simple t-shirt at me. "Here. As for a place to rest your head..."

"I can find a room, don't worry."

"Nah. You can use our back room. There's even a 'fresher in there." He leads me to said room. "Go get yourself cleaned up, Captain. I'll get the room ready."

The 'fresher has a real shower in it, so I set the spray to hot and powerful, and scrub myself down. The mud and muck soaked through my pants to my legs, and it feels good to get the caked material off. I do my best to rinse the dirt out of my leggings, socks, jacket, and shirt, then hang them to dry. My borrowed pants are scratchy and require a good deal of cinching from my belt, but the shirt is soft and worn, and pleasantly large on me. I step out into the room again, rubbing at my hair with a towel.

The room itself is rather small and narrow, but there's a small area for food prep in the corner. A miniature holo-projector sits opposite. There's just enough space for a couple of people to stay. Rendia Freight probably gets overnight guests every now and then. There are two cots sitting side-by-side on the near wall. They weren't there before.

"Why are there two cots?" I ask.

"Figured I'd stay here with you," Riggs says innocently.

"Riggs, I ain't that kinda girl."

He blushes furiously, from collar to forehead. "Don't mean it like that, Captain. Just don't want you to be alone if something happens."

"I don't need a babysitter," I reply.

"Look, if Rogun's thugs show up, wouldn't it be better if you had some backup?"

I shrug. "Guess not." I sit on one of the cots and run my hands along the hem of the shirt. "So my pants belong to someone no longer here, but who's shirt is it?"

"That would be..." he clears his throat and looks away, "mine."

I nod. "Nice of you to offer it. Thanks. I'll give it back to you. I'd wash it too if there was time."

"Don't worry about it." He gestures with his hand. "It's late, why don't we get some rest?"

I settle back on the cot and pull the blankets over me. They're soft, and warm, and comforting. They don't smell right, but the only place where the bedding smells right is my bunk on the ship. "Thanks for everything, Riggs."

"No problem, Captain," he replies.

I fall asleep the moment my eyes close.


	2. I Don't Like Wet Hair

**A/N: **There's a tiny little reference to one of my favorite sci-fi shows in this chapter. If anyone finds it/figures it out, feel free to message me.

* * *

Viidu, thankfully, doesn't make any comments about my timing, or the clearly new blaster burn on my jacket (_thank you, Separatists that watch the path_), and turns out to be my kinda guy. A well-stocked liquor cabinet and an appreciation of good food and drink are two of my best social qualities. Well, they may be my only social qualities. Plus, he has a collection of fine art. I've smuggled a few works before, so I know a little about it and I like looking at some pieces. Pity that he's involved in my mess of a job. The arrangement he's made for getting me past the blockade around Talloran is not really my style, Pa and Uncle Ze always taught us that surgical precision and barely leaving a trail were better than a pile of bodies, but I'll do what I have to do.

Reki on the other hand, is the kind of man the galaxy could use less of. Exploitation of life, human or alien, was a line Pa, Uncle Ze and their father before them refused to cross, and a healthy respect was deeply ingrained in my upbringing. We never smuggled slaves or paraphernalia. That the one woman with the dark hair reminded me vaguely of Sha'li made it all the harder to just turn and leave after handing over the supplies. _I hope you choke on a food cube, scum_, I curse as he pulls the box from my hand.

At least the trip to Talloran proves useful in other ways, finding stolen medicine for refugees (who had stolen it in the first place), uncovering a damn Imperial spy (who can't be behind bars fast enough), and, somehow, finding myself destroying a Separatist communication tapping array. It's good for a few more credits, even if I don't care much for either side of this civil war.

A woman greets me when I reenter Renia Frieght. Her skin is unblemished, her dark hair is swept back into a clip, and her figure is generously curved. In comparison, I feel like an overgrown child: too tall, too skinny, too freckled. "You must be the freighter captain Viidu's expecting. It's a pleasure to meet you in person. I'm Syreena."

Something about her instantly rubs me the wrong way, something suspicious in the lay of her eyes and brow, something else in the play of her voice. Or maybe I'm being overly reactive to everything in the wake of the theft. "Pleasure to meet you," I manage neutrally.

"Likewise. My father flew tramp freighters, but I never developed a taste for space travel, myself. Too dangerous. I heard about what happened with Skavak. Can't say I'm surprised. I told Viidu not to trust that scoundrel. Viidu's putting on a brave face for me, but I can tell he's terrified. Is it bad? Should I be worried?"

The advice that I learned when I was knee-high to a nerf comes to mind. "Ines, kiddo, you've got to trust your gut." I lifted up my shirt, pointed to my belly button, and asked, "Gut?" Uncle Ze laughed. "No, your instincts, your feelings, your hunches." After that, anytime someone had said "trust your gut" on the ship, someone would point to me and ask me how my stomach felt.

So that's what I tell Syreena. The advice, not my story. I remind myself to take that advice more seriously and to get a better feel for these people I'm working with.

"Good advice," she ventures, "thank you, Captain. Sorry for keeping you from your appointment. Viidu's waiting in his office. I know he's eager to speak with you."

"I should go."

"Farewell, Captain." The words sound laced with something, but I can't figure out what.

When I reach the offices upstairs, I can smell the food through the open door. My stomach rumbles in anticipation; it's well past lunch time and I'm famished.

"Back already, Captain? Help me and Corso finish this Roba steak. Don't let this fine cut of meat go waste," Viidu says in lieu of normal greeting.

"Don't mind if I do," I reply, carving off a slice and sinking into a chair. "Got anything good to wash it down with?"

"Corellian red, fine vintage, very sweet."

"It's a little to early for wine," I say, though what I really mean is that I need to keep a clear head. "Something local?"

"Boss, quit acting like that's your last meal. Rogun the Butcher isn't gonna kill you," Riggs butts in.

"I won't blow this—trust me." A bit ironic, since I don't trust anyone very much at the moment.

"Until I've recovered those stolen blasters, I'll eat and drink like there is no tomorrow. Here, Captain, try this."

The proffered drink is dark red and almost impossibly sweet, but in a good, tangy-tart way. "What is it?" I ask

"The locals call it 'Red Paradise', it's made from dried local flowers and a couple of spices, steeped in cold water overnight."

"Refreshing."

Pa and Uncle Ze used to argue with Aunt Keki (and Mom, when she was still alive) as to whether or not mixing business and food led to indigestion. It was a pointless argument, really, but Viidu clearly would side with the men on this one. The three of us discuss getting onto Mannett Point and the plan for getting the computer files. Riggs offers to come with me, help I'd be glad to have, since swimming is not my strong point, but his boss has other plans for him.

I'm sliding my jacket back on when Viidu comes up to me. "Captain, I hope you'll understand why I'm keeping Corso here. Last thing I need is him turning 'one man army' out there. Kid will just get himself killed for nothing." I raise an eyebrow. "Separatists wiped out his family a couple of years ago. Corso took it personal."

My throat tightens convulsively. _Two seeds in a pod, indeed_. My voice takes on an edge, "I don't blame him for wanting revenge."

"Mixing personal grudges and business is like dropping a thermal detonator into a fuel dump. Everything burns and nothing feels right ever again." From the tone of Viidu's voice, I can't tell if he's giving me advice or talking about Corso. I glance over at him, and his expression is unreadable. I'm about to ask him about it, but Syreena interrupts with news of a holo from Rogun. This time, the panic is clear in Viidu's face.

I'm out the door in microseconds.

* * *

For some reason, every person with a possible request seems to read "civilian" as "do-gooder", which I am not, by nature. I don't go out of my way to help people, but when faced with decisions, all those lessons I was taught growing up kick in. Still, credits are credits, until I hear the stories of some of these folks, and I can't accept rewards. Every family torn apart becomes my family, every broken mother or father is my Uncle or Aunt, and credits cease to matter. I even wind up handing some creds to a kid trying to escape what can only be described as enslavement.

Yep, give me the opportunity, and I'm a regular bleeding heart, especially when a situation involves children. More importantly, the busier I stay, the less time I have to think about my family, my old life, or my ship.

The downside is that every extra task I take on adds to the time it takes for me to complete my to-do list. Searching for missing sons and holodiscs and doctors will probably double the time it takes for me to get back to Viidu in Fort Garnik. I'm not sure if the extra credits and the warm feeling are worth it when my ship, my life, and my home are in jeopardy.

Once I actually get into Reki's house and decipher the schematics, the sun is little more than a pink wash in the sky. My stomach rumbles again and I reach in a jacket pocket for a protein bar. I search Reki's kitchen (well, whatever passes as a kitchen) for a glass, wash it off, and swallow a few sips of water. I'm exhausted, so I figure I'll sneak in a quick nap before infiltrating the base after dark has fallen. As the majority of the house looks unwashed and filthy, the floor will have to do.

I wake up an hour later, my chrono beeping, refreshed enough to keep moving. Dark provides a nice cover for me as I sneak down the path to the base. The back door is relatively unguarded and almost no one is inside. I start the download of the Separatist personnel roster and some other files that look like databases and schedules. Hopefully, one of them has Skavak's info.

"Come on, Foursen, say it just like I taught you."

"The Republic lackeys will drown in lakes of fire and blood, master. Death to all who oppose the people's will, master."

_Hurry up, will ya, data? _The telltale clack of boots is getting closer.

"Hey there. We've had some trouble with the power relays. I need to check on the computer core. You mind?"

The droid that accompanies the booted male manages to both save my skin and put it at risk. "Master, I detect the presence of several non-functioning humans. Specifically, the bodies over there. Setting alert status red."

"By the stars! Republic troops have invaded our base!" Acting is not one of my talents, but "Boots" and his droid buy it.

"Oh, no! Foursen, activate combat protocols! We've got to warn the others!"

"Master, my sensors detect no evidence of hostile forces."

"But that doesn't make sense..."

"When was the last time you calibrated that droids sensors?" I ask.

"Not recently enough to take any chances. We need to put the base on alert and rally the men. Good day, Comrade! Come on, Foursen."

_Comrade?_ I resist the urge to giggle. The word is just so odd. Sneaking back out is as easy as sneaking in, and within a few minutes I find myself splashing my way back to the mainland. The water rinses away the dust and blood on my exposed skin, but it also soaks through my clothes and the wind blowing is chilly. I'm not familiar with the threat posed by local fauna, so I elect to take a taxi speeder back to the base. The wind from the high velocity chills me more, and by the time I reach Rendia Freight, I'm straight up shivering.

The voices from inside make me pause outside the doorway into the warehouse proper.

"You really don't have to work so late, sweets, there's a nice, warm spot back in my bunk."

"Leave me alone, Bracco! If Viidu knew about this, he'd-"

I'd barely come to the chin of the Zabrak, so he absolutely towers over the petite Syreena. "Viidu?" he laughs. " You're trying to tell me you actually care about that blob? He can't even protect himself. It's only a matter time before Rogun the Butcher punches your fat meal ticket for good. You'd better start thinking about the future, girl." He raises his hand and runs it along Syreena's face. "When Viidu's gone, you'll need new friends."

I'm leaning on the door frame, hair tie around my wrist, vigorously shaking my hair out in an attempt to get it to dry a bit when he delivers that last line. "She's got new friends," I lie. " She's got me, and besides, Rogun's got his eye on her. Think of his reaction when he discovers you messed up his favorite."

"Th-That's right, Bracco. You don't want to get on Rogun's bad side. I'm sure your life would be very unpleasant."

"He's already scoping out his future trophies, huh? Just proves Viidu ain't long for this world." He turns and makes to leave. "Let's go, guys."

I shake my head again to rid my neck of the damp touch of my hair. "Men..."

"Thanks for stepping in, Captain. I was so frighted." She hardly looks it though.

"With guys like that, there's no telling what they'd do. At least they were gullible enough to buy it. I wasn't looking forward to a brawl."

"Bluff? It's closer to the truth than I'd like to admit." She sighs. "What Bracco said was true, though. Rogun will kill Viidu if those blasters don't turn up."

"Rogun won't kill anyone, Syreena. Those blasters are as good as being back here." I smile. Again, I'm reassuring myself as much as the person I'm talking to.

"I hope whatever course of action you're pursuing pays off, Captain. More lives than your own depend on it."

I sneeze. The chilly damp of my jacket is getting to me. "Don't worry about it, you'll be alright. Now, I've gotta to see your boss before I catch a cold." I sprint off towards Viidu's office and rub at my arms, hoping the friction warms me a little.

Viidu and Corso are waiting for me in the conference room-slash-office. Corso's pacing and Viidu's enjoying what looks to be a late-night snack while fidgeting with a datapad.

"Captain!" Corso says as a greeting.

"Hey-ya, Riggs." When he smiles, just a tiny corner of the world straightens out and comes back into balance. Once I get the _Shadow _back, maybe I can convince him to come with me. I could use a crew member or two to help out, especially ones with contacts and their own weaponry, and if even a corner of my world is fixed, he'd be worth it.

"Finally! I thought you'd never get back," Viidu exclaims. "Tell me you got those separatist files!"

I slide the datapad across the table. "Yeah, I got 'em. And I had some fun while I was out." I brush a lock of damp hair behind my ear again.

"I hate missing all the fun," Riggs pouts. "Next time, can I join?"

"You did good, Captain. Corso found us a terrific little slicer kit, so we're ready to decrypt that data. We'll know where to find Skavak soon."

"I can help with the slic—Achoo!" I sneeze loudly.

"Jeez, Captain, you're shivering," Corso says, noticing my appearance for the first time. "Let us handle the slicing."

"You sure?" I cross my arms over my chest to try to stop the tiny tremors.

"We're sure," says Viidu. "Corso, why don't you find Captain Valis some dry clothes and a place to spend the night."

"Sure thing, boss."

"And Captain, I have a job to talk to you about in the morning."

"Couldn't we just talk now?" It's not as if I'm not alert or I have that much patience.

"You need to warm up and get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."

Riggs rests a warm hand on my shoulder. "C'mon, Captain. Let's find you something dry and a spot to bunk down." I follow him downstairs to a set of lockers. "We all keep some spare clothes in these lockers, just in case. Hey, Syreena, you still around?" He calls, and her head pops up over a nearby shipping crate. "Can you help me find something for the Captain to wear?"

Syreena laughs. "If anything of mine fits her, I'll be surprised." She sidles up to us and palms her locker open. "Let's see...how about this?" She holds out a pair of leggings, a belt and a shirt. I hold them against my frame and laugh almost immediately. Everything is too short. The leggings reach the middle of my shins; the shirt would barely cover my stomach. Syreena shrugs. "I told you it'll all be too small. The Captain's tall." She uses her hand to indicate my height.

Riggs fumbles for a minute with another locker. "One of the old workers left some of her stuff here. It might do." The pants inside are wide for me, but fit well enough in the length. There's no shirts though.

"It's ok. I'll just leave my undershirt on."

"You'll catch a cold in that wet stuff," Riggs says, before opening another locker and tossing a simple t-shirt at me. "Here. As for a place to rest your head..."

"I can find a room, don't worry."

"Nah. You can use our back room. There's even a 'fresher in there." He leads me to said room. "Go get yourself cleaned up, Captain. I'll get the room ready."

The 'fresher has a real shower in it, so I set the spray to hot and powerful, and scrub myself down. The mud and muck soaked through my pants to my legs, and it feels good to get the caked material off. I do my best to rinse the dirt out of my leggings, socks, jacket, and shirt, then hang them to dry. My borrowed pants are scratchy and require a good deal of cinching from my belt, but the shirt is soft and worn, and pleasantly large on me. I step out into the room again, rubbing at my hair with a towel.

The room itself is rather small and narrow, but there's a small area for food prep in the corner. A miniature holo-projector sits opposite. There's just enough space for a couple of people to stay. Rendia Freight probably gets overnight guests every now and then. There are two cots sitting side-by-side on the near wall. They weren't there before.

"Why are there two cots?" I ask.

"Figured I'd stay here with you," Riggs says innocently.

"Riggs, I ain't that kinda girl."

He blushes furiously, from collar to forehead. "Don't mean it like that, Captain. Just don't want you to be alone if something happens."

"I don't need a babysitter," I reply.

"Look, if Rogun's thugs show up, wouldn't it be better if you had some backup?"

I shrug. "Guess not." I sit on one of the cots and run my hands along the hem of the shirt. "So my pants belong to someone no longer here, but who's shirt is it?"

"That would be..." he clears his throat and looks away, "mine."

I nod. "Nice of you to offer it. Thanks. I'll give it back to you. I'd wash it too if there was time."

"Don't worry about it." He gestures with his hand. "It's late, why don't we get some rest?"

I settle back on the cot and pull the blankets over me. They're soft, and warm, and comforting. They don't smell right, but the only place where the bedding smells right is my bunk on the ship. "Thanks for everything, Riggs."

"No problem, Captain," he replies.

I fall asleep the moment my eyes close.


	3. I Am NOT an Errand Runner

Morning on Ord Mantell seems slower than morning on other planets I've visited. Other places, the world would be alive and buzzing by the time I awake, people already rushing to work and school and appointments. Mantell seems to wake up slowly, stretching itself out before stumbling to the 'fresher, and then making a cup of caf. As a general habit, whenever I'm dirtside, I awake quickly and get my day started early, so I'm trying to make myself a cup of whatever blend Viidu stores in the little back room when Corso Riggs wakes up.

He makes one of those "I'm just waking up" noises and then mutters something I don't catch. I figure out the caf brewer and ask, "You want a cup?" I look at him when he doesn't answer quickly.

"Hmm?" He blinks. "Umm...yeah." I add more water. "You always awake this early?"

"Only when I'm planetside. When I'm in space, I'll sleep until my...until I feel like getting out of bed." _Blast, I almost told him about Pa._ The pain pricks at my heart and eyes, and my grip on the mug tightens.

"Easy there," Riggs' voice is closer than it was a minute ago. "The mug ain't gonna run away." I feel his hand pry it from mine. "Everything ok?"

I blink. "Yeah. I'm fine. I'm just gonna...get freshened up a bit."

Even though I'm still clean, I turn the shower on to another full-power blast. The water pounds against my face and mixes with the tears. Every moment of the past month (_has it really already been a month?_) has been filled with as strong a distraction as I could manage. I overhauled the _Shadow's _engine twice, cleaned every surface, did a complete systems sweep and backup, cleaned the ship's blaster turrets, read three new holonovels, got into a handful of fistfights (got kicked out of two bars because of them), and, at night, when Jol wasn't there to see me, downed at least third of a bottle of something strong or tried more bloody methods of releasing the emptiness. The water stings at the half-healed mark on my upper arm.

Jol searched for with every contact we had for something, anything, even something legitimate. Half of the contacts wouldn't deal with us, and the other half had nothing at the moment. Without work, and without access to our fathers' accounts, we were out to dry. When Kelsor finally came through with the contact info for Viidu, we were down to a nine-hundred credits (I had spent far too much on booze), the single bottle of good Correllian rum we had bought a year ago and hadn't touched, and a week's worth of instant meals.

I finally had work, but Jol couldn't go on. He had it all lined up to stay on planet as a field mechanic, but didn't mention it until we were settling the new cargo into the hold. After the ramp was pulled up and the airlock cycled, I sank to the floor and cried, the first time I had done so since we had left Balmorra in a rush. The ship was so silent after that; I only started the ship's engines to leave when the silence became so stifling the next day that I couldn't stand it. Hyperspace passed while I was in some sort of numbing void, and when the ship came out of lightspeed, I was Captain Valis instead of Inestra.

Captain Valis didn't have anyone to mourn, and she didn't have a reason to. She was a seasoned professional, everything that one could expect from a smuggler: hungry for riches, good alcohol and a fun time. Captain Valis could talk her way out of any situation; she possessed a silvertongue gilded in half-lies and hidden truths. Yesterday, between assuming the new persona, the loss of my ship and the requests from half of Ord's population, I almost became her entirely. But this morning, while I was still making mental connections, I became Inestra again, and Inestra is the opposite of Captain Valis.

I shut the water off and put on my clothes _and_ the persona of Captain Valis on again: confident almost to the point of arrogance, self-assured, and collected. There are no tears, because there are no emotions to deal with; I become bold, strong, and a force to be reckoned with. Yes, my armor is thicker than any that can be bought, but I can't afford a single chink in it. One bad move, and everyone will see me for the fraud I am, the lie I have no choice but to become.

"Hope you didn't let my caf get cold!" I call as I open the 'fresher door. At least Captain Valis and Inestra both agree that cold caf is horrid. I compose my features into a smile. The cloak of my assumed persona settles against me and I hope that it stays there.

"Don't worry Captain, it's still warm." He presses the mug into my hands. There's that smile again, and my mistake this morning fades and a tiny section of my universe briefly rights itself again. "So about breakfast...what do you want?"

"Other than caf? Let's see," I wrack my brain for the most ridiculous breakfast I can come up with. "Eggs, bacon, hashbrowns," I start, "macaroni, some cold chicken, green beans, some chocolate, and a pot of caf."

"Right..." He laughs, and I find myself laughing too, not just my outside identity, but _me_, Inestra Valis, daughter of Berk and Lara, the girl with a broken heart hidden deep inside.

For a split second, the world is right and my smile is real, and just a little part of my heart heals.

* * *

The conference room-slash-office is comfortably warm, but already full of sunny, natural light. Someone was thoughtful enough to put out some warm cereal for a breakfast, which I'm thankful for, since my stomach is making grumbling noises.

"Morning, Captain!" Viidu's already up and is enjoying what looks to be a second helping of breakfast. He was serious about the "eating like there's no tomorrow", I guess. "Did you sleep ok?"

"Good morning, Viidu," I reply. "I slept like a rock."

"She snores like a Gundark," Riggs teases.

"You snore like two Wookies," I tease back. "I had had an _exhausting _day, what's your excuse?" I grab a generous serving of the cereal.

"Excuse? I was blasting Seps and lifting heavy cargo while you were running around doing easy errands like finding bird books."

Viidu's smirking at the two of us when we finally sit down. "Alright, you two, that's enough. Captain, what do you say to an extra special job that only you could do?"

"Well, my schedule is pretty open, what is it?" I dump sweetener on the cereal.

"I need you to keep Rogun the Butcher off our backs. Syreena stalled him earlier, but it's not enough. We need to distract Rogun by giving him something he really wants—a canister of some special chemicals from a nearby village."

"Why does this sound suspicious?" I'm dubious, especially because "errand runner" is not on my business card. Or it wouldn't be if I had business cards. Maybe I should get business cards. Do smugglers use business cards?

"Because it is," Riggs cuts in. "The 'Big Boom Run' is blasted risky. I can see it making Rogun's day, but really, boss?"

"C'mon, Riggs, I'm positive I've been in worse situations." Like that time I was running interference while we smuggled two of a particularly vile Hutt's slaves out of his establishment. Hutt kitchens are _nasty_ business.

"You don't understand. People lose their arms and legs on this job, Captain. Heads too." Riggs glares at me.

"You think I haven't poked my head into danger a few times? Where do you think this comes from?" I gesture towards the scar on my chin. "Or this?" I use the hand not occupied with my spoon to lift the fringe from my forehead where a scar sits on my hairline. "I'll be fine." He doesn't look happy with my response. "So what would I be doing, if I chose to run this errand for you?" I leave a tiny amount of emphasis on "errand".

"There's a loopy scientist with a chemical that can supercharge artillery cannons—makes them do more damage."

"But it's less stable than a drunk savrip on a speeder bike. Handle it wrong, and suddenly you're little chunks of ex-captain."

_Glare any harder, Riggs, and your face'll get stuck that way._

"Sure it's tricky, but you've got the skill to get it here. Did I mention this run pays unbelievably well?"

Captain Valis should have credit signs in her eyes about now. "I'm on it." Riggs shakes his head.

"Fantastic. I won't even haggle down on your fee. That's how much I respect you." Viidu gestures with open arms. "Trymbo is the scientist's name. Got a place in Oradam village. I'll let him know you're coming."

Our other breakfast guest has finished eating, so he makes to leave. "See me before you make that run, Captain. We should talk."

Thankfully, he's already out the door before the color shows in my face.

"You and Corso seem to be getting along well," Viidu says in a neutral tone.

"He's a good guy," I say. "I can see why you keep him around." There's no way I'm letting Viidu know that I would love to steal him when I get my ship back. Of course, he probably wouldn't leave with me, even if I begged. Or threatened.

"Captain, for your sake and for his, I hope you find your ship." His voice is sad.

"Me too, for all our sakes."

The main floor of the warehouse is huge, and the towering piles of cargo make it even more difficult to find anyone. I'm not about to ask someone where Riggs is, so I fumble around for a while. The air inside the building is comfortably cool and dry (but not too dry), and I can already tell that the day is shaping up to be warm—unpleasantly so—and humid. I'm in no great rush to start this journey.

"Hey, you! Captain-whatsyourname! Corso is wondering where you are!" one of the workers shouts toward me and gestures with his thumb towards the front office.

Riggs is leaning against the door frame when I spot him. Emotion still clouds his eyes, but he seems less upset than he was earlier, thank the stars. He's got his little bits of piecemeal armor and the big blaster rifle strapped back on, and his arms are crossed over his chest.

"Riggs, you're not gonna convince me out of this."

"Captain, I'm not gonna try. But the Big Boom run got its name for a reason: it's no stroll on the beach. You'll need an edge to make it back alive." He reaches in his holster, pulls out a blaster, and holds it out towards me, hilt first. "This here's a SoroSuub SSK heavy blaster. It's cut for a quick draw and got a hair-trigger. I call it 'Flashy'. Flashy's the first blaster I ever owned, and I want you to have it."

His first blaster? Giving it to a complete stranger? And it's named? Who is this Corso Riggs? "I can't take this, Riggs. I've got a good blaster." I pat the holster on my thigh where it sits. Maybe it's a wee bit antique, and certainly not in the pristine condition that this one is in, but it's mine and it fits me and it's _mine_.

"I've seen that blaster in action, and let me assure you that Flashy is a smoother draw and does far more damage."

I flip the gun and make to return it to him. "I can't take your first blaster. But I'd be willing to take you along. I seem to remember you complaining about missing all the fun last night." I cock my hip and place my fist on it.

"I'd love to, Captain, but I can't. I've got work to do. Just take Flashy, please. I'll breathe a lot easier knowing you're ready for anything."

The tone in his voice makes me think of the way we used to talk to each other on the ship. "You got your blaster, sweetie?" Pa used to call every time I left the ship. Uncle Ze would ask if I was trying to give my father a heart-attack whenever I said "no, just dropping to the corner store". The friendly concern in Riggs' voice reminds me of my family and makes my next words a little difficult to say smoothly. "If it means that much to you, I'll _borrow_ it for a while."

"Good enough," he says with a chuckle. "Best of luck, Captain."

"You too, Riggs."

* * *

Outside the cool of the climate-controlled building, the day is already hot and the sun is doing its damndest to bleach the color out of everything while just adding more freckles to my face. Fort Garnik is bustling with activity, but none of the locals seem to mind the sun or the heat. I use my hand to shade my eyes and look at the map Viidu provided me with yesterday. Oradam Village is about two hours' hike to the northwest, provided I'm not waylaid or held up.

Of course, I'm about a third of the way there and protocol droid waylays me. When it mentions that it was trying to fix generators, I jump at the chance to play mechanic. Celestra is understandably frustrated, and her temper is a little short, but without my tool set, I'd be murderous. It dawns on me that I _am_ without my tool set, and I have every intent of killing the bastard who took it (and my ship) from me.

Once the tools are recovered, I kneel down next to the generator and help her fix it. "Your accent isn't local, how'd you wind up on Ord?" she asks as I twist a couple of wires together, thankful for the heavy leather gloves on my hands.

I'm not about to tell her the real story, so I make up a little something on the spot. "Y'know how the Separatists are threatening to blow this world up? I got called in to run some supplies to outlying villages." I even managed to get a little bit of truth in there. Sort of.

"A smuggler?"

"A professional supplies and matériel delivery expert, if you will. What about you?"

"Mechanical work for the Republic. If it breaks, I fix it. Everything from speeder bikes to droid parts. Unfortunately, I'm jury-rigging more and more these days." She shakes her head. "Good mechanics are getting harder and harder to come by. If the smuggling thing gets boring, we could use a hand like yours."

"I'm too attached to the stars to live planetside for long," I laugh. "Besides, my paycheck is better and I have more fun."

"More fun than getting shot at by Separatists, yelled at by pushy soldiers and never having the right supplies? I can't imagine it." She finishes tightening a blot with the spanner. "And there we go!" The generator whirrs back into life, and the sound is the best thing I've heard in a while. It sounds a little like _home_. I sniff. Allergies must be getting to me. This would be the first place I've had allergies.

"I'm going to be off, now. Nice to meet you, Captain..."  
"Valis. Nice to do business with you, Celestra."

* * *

The beach west of village is lovely, if not my kind of place. The water is the perfect temperature for swimming, but after my fiasco with wet clothes and shivering yesterday, I'm avoiding any and all bodies of water. The sand doesn't try to scald me through my boots, which is a blessing, but it also is blindingly white, and adds heat to the already warm air.

"The walk out is lovely," _Trymbo's wife said._ "The beach is so relaxing," s_he said. Between these blasted scavengers and the heat, I'm not sure if I'm even on the same beach._

The scavengers are determined to shoot anything that moves, and I've already got the blaster cannon supercharge-chemicals, so between the scavengers, the heat, and the unstable chemicals, I'm more paranoid than a spice addict in withdrawal. The sun is at midday, which gives me minimal shade for sneaking around in, and the roughly four hours of sleep I got last night are making my thoughts start to lag. Every hundred or so paces, I pull my binocs out of a jacket pocket and scout the terrain ahead. Once out of the scavengers' territory, the trails are almost empty. Empty or not, I can't afford to get jostled, much less shot at, so I take footpaths and side trails, even attempt to make my own way once (and get turned around). Yesterday, the errands were quick: go in, give the message, get the stuff, get out. I was out all day and well into the wee hours of the morning, but nothing was overly strenuous. Today, the hike is far longer on a straight path, and my cargo makes the hike take longer. I force myself to think of the credits I'll gain if I make it back alive. Provisions, a nice meal, maybe some upgrades await me on the other side of Fort Garnik's wall. More accurately, the provisioning and upgrades await once I've got the _Shadow_ back, but I can still get myself a nice meal and some drinks on this rock.

My chrono reads 1730 when I tip-toe back into Rendia Freight. Sneaking the chemicals past the Republic troops and security forces proved a bit of a trick, one involving climbing a hill, finding a drain pipe (thankfully, it's mostly dry), and removing the grate at the other side.

"Viidu, I'm back!" I call, voice sing-song, into his office. "And I got a present for you!"

"Woah, Captain, be careful." He gestures dramatically for me to stop. "I've got a storage unit over here to stabilize the canister so it doesn't blow." I move to place the canister in the unit. "Easy does it...easy...There we go..."

"From what I've been told, we'll still want to be real careful with it."

"Don't worry. This canister is safer than a Senator's daughter in a room full of Jedi.

"Getting Trymbo's chemicals saved out necks, Captain. Rogun will be too busy selling them to think about the blasters."

"Or so we hope," I interject. Without clear objective, my mind wanders back to the more pessimistic places it's been inhabiting in the past month.

"So what did you think of Trymbo?" Maybe Viidu sees some sign in my expression, or maybe he just wants to make small talk.

"You said 'loopy'." I finger-quote the word. "He's a few freighters short of a convoy. More than a few."

Viidu laughs. "I know what you mean. Every time I talk to him, he thinks I'm his great-grandfather who crashed into a black hole."

"He thought I was trying to escape marriage. Not sure if that's any better. Any luck slicing the data?" I pick up a piece of fruit and toss it from hand to hand.

"We're getting there, but the Separatists don't just possess several layers of security protocols, their encryption looks like it's double key based."

"Yuck. They must really want their personnel files kept private, sheesh." Double key encryption takes a long time to break, if you can break it at all. Every person with access has two keys. One key has an identity code and a reader program; the other key has an identity verification script and has the cryptokey for writing. The upside is that you need both keys to interact with the system, and every person has a unique pair of codes, so the system is very secure. In fact, the Holonet uses a variation on double key encryption for its encryption procedures. The downside is that you generally need two unique codes for every system you interact with, so it's easy to lose a key or use the wrong key on a system. I've seen data security professionals and professional slicers with a couple of storage boxes of keys, and it's not uncommon. The only way I know of to break the encryption, when you don't have either key, is to do a forceful raw data dump and then run the raw data trough a collection of encrypt/decrypt algorithms until the AI gets enough information to create a cryptokey.

"Do you have either cryptokey?" I ask. One cryptokey of the pair can speed things up significantly.

"We were able to, ahem, convince a Republic officer to give us a couple pairs of cryptokeys that were pulled from dead Separatists. We're still trying to break through the last layers of security protocols, and then we'll know if they're any good. Even if they're not," Viidu says, "if you have enough pairs of cryptokeys, you can find the root key generation numbers."

"I hadn't heard that." My education in slicing is pretty rudimentary, mostly how to forge a landing record, do an information dump, run an encrypt/decrypt program, fake credentials, and open a lockbox. Any tools I learned with are most likely outdated at this point.

"Let me know when you find it. If it starts taking a long while, I'll head back into Mannett Point and pull a couple of fresh key pairs." I take a bite of the fruit. It's ripe and properly tangy.

"I hope it doesn't come to that," Viidu says uncomfortably. "I really hope it doesn't come to that."

* * *

**A/N: ** Some eagle-eyes will probably spot that I used some of Corso's dialogue with the male smuggler in the Flashy conversation. It just seemed to fit better in the story I'm trying to tell.

The concept of double-key encryption is shamelessly borrowed from the idea of public key/private key encryption, which is a real thing. It's almost impossible to break because it's a complicated thing, and (at least to me) it's pretty cool.

If anyone would like to see a little sketch I did of 'Nes and Corso, I've got one here: post/94192324621/as-promised-the-art-i-made-at-2am-last-night-my

Please let me know about chapter length. I feel like these are _really _long chapters (3,000+ works a pop), and I'm not sure if they should be broken up more.


End file.
